


Dreaming At The Edge of A Well

by Haecceity



Category: Dollhouse, Inception (2010), Stop-Loss (2008)
Genre: Crime, Crossover, Dolls, Epitaph, Explicit Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haecceity/pseuds/Haecceity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Inception Kink Meme prompt:</p>
<p>Dollhouse crossover (but not with a character from Dollhouse...feel me?) Arthur is an active. Cobb hired the company, requesting him (he's had success of jobs with "Arthur" in the past). Arthur and Eames have basically fallen for each other over the course of the job. Lovely sexytimez. Afterwards, the job ends and his handler comes to take Arthur for his treatment. Eames is crushed. He tries to track down Arthur. Whether or not he succeeds is up to anon. Also, does he catch up to Arthur before he's wiped? Does he find Arthur an empty active? I appreciate the potential link between Inception and Dollhouse. It feels like any way this twists, it's gonna be a bittersweet/tearjerker of an ending. :(</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming At The Edge of A Well

Cobb found the prices appalling but who was there to complain to? They had the market cornered and it wasn’t strictly speaking legal. He sat with his cup of coffee and looked at Browning. He certainly didn’t look like a middle manager for hell but Cobb was certain that was what he had to be. “That’s a little steep,” was all he said aloud.

“You’re paying for the best,” Browning countered. 

“My specifications-“

“No one looks at those,” Browning assured him swiftly. Cobb gave him a look. “No one but the computer. Though the lab techs did say there were some gaps in the personal area.”

“Personal?” Cobb squinted. “I’m requesting a professional.”

“Yes, Mr. Cobb, but you will be working closely with him over the course of a few months. If you were hiring him for a few hours, it might not matter. We’ve found that in the more long term assignments,” Cobb squirmed slightly at the word, “personality conflicts and their resolution become more important.”

“I need to be able to trust him or her.” Cobb said, reminding himself of the money he hoped to get. “I need to know they won’t sell me out, or-“

“Ah, loyalty,” Browning interrupted smoothly. “Not just trustworthiness but personal loyalty perhaps. Do you want him or her to view you as like a brother?”

“That would work,” Cobb admitted. “He needs to be calm under pressure, thorough and analytical.”

“Does he need to socialize much, Mr. Cobb?” Browning asked when Cobb paused thoughtfully.

“No, someone quiet would work just as well. You can really custom make them like this?” Cobb asked incredulously. The feeling of having a person made to order was exhilarating and intensely creepy. It was as unlike expecting James and Philipa as he could imagine. A new life was being constructed. It struck him as deeply unnatural but he _needed_ a point man.

“Yes. We can create all sorts of personalities for all sorts of uses. A loyal, analytical man. He won’t know you of course. He’ll feel inexplicably drawn to you on a visceral level. We’ll need to have him trust that feeling so be aware that like any other person you’ll need to treat him professionally.” Browning gave Cobb a phony smile. “I don’t foresee that being a problem in this instance.”

“No,” Cobb frowned. “He needs to be able to tell me when I’m about to make a mistake but not override me if I do it anyway.”

“That should be easy enough,” Browning said. After a pause he added, “Is that all?”

“Yes, I think so. I understand the time limitations and that some days he will be on other assignments.” Cobb nodded.

“It won’t affect his performance, Mr. Cobb,” Browning assured him. “We prefer not to have our actives spend very long with any one imprint.”

“Fine,” Cobb nodded and signed the dotted line.

“Is there anything you’d like to call him? Or would you prefer a woman? The read out says that what you want is typically male but you gave us no preference.” Browning gestured with his glasses.

“A man is fine.” Cobb thought for a moment. “Arthur.” After all, he might need to do this again. It would be easier to pretend the man was merely sleeping in Avalon.

~ 3 years later ~

Arthur entered the dingy apartment and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He set his messenger bag on a squeaky chair and looked at the apartment’s other occupants. Cobb was familiar from six previous jobs, five successes and one failure. The small brunette was new and so was the stocky blond. Unless the brunette had ninja skills she was unlikely to be a physical threat but the man could probably take Arthur in a fair fight if Arthur believed in fighting fair. He took it all in with one blink of his brown eyes, maintaining his neutral expression.

“Arthur,” Cobb greeted him with a smile. “This is Ariadne, my protégé, I’ve told you about her. That’s Eames; he’ll be giving us security cards and handling other issues of identity. Yusuf will be along later to do our hacking.”

Arthur nodded to each of them in turn. “I read over the job on the way here.” He sat carefully on the edge of the chair. “Do we have Wi-Fi here?” At Cobb’s nod, he pulled out his laptop and started meticulously going down the list of background checks. It was amazing the things people put on social networking sites.

As the sun sank lower in the sky and people came and went from the apartment, Arthur became aware that Eames was watching him. He let it go until it came time for everyone to put in their orders for takeout. “What?” he demanded shortly.

“If we have Yusuf as our hacker, what are you doing?” Eames asked, frowning.

“You have to know what to look for,” Arthur said coolly.

“I know that, darling. I was wondering how you knew that.” Eames moved to stand directly behind Arthur. After a long pause where Arthur simply continued combing the internet, Eames cleared his throat.

“I didn’t hear a question, Mr. Eames.” Arthur punctuated the statement with a key tap.

“Cobb has told us all about what a clever boy you are but no one has ever heard of you working with anyone but Cobb. There’s keeping a low profile and then there’s being invisible. No one knows what you learned or who from.”

“You either trust Cobb or you don’t,” Arthur replied simply.

“And that’s why you’re running a background check on sweet little Ariadne?” Eames asked, looking over Arthur’s shoulder with breath smelling like onions.

“It’s my job to watch Cobb’s back.”

“I watch my own back, darling.” Eames said in a tone of weapons grade condescension. “I’m very good at scavenger hunts and you turn up nothing.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.” Arthur suggested.

“I’m better.” Eames insisted. “How do I know you can hold up your end of the deal?”

“Because I can think of one hundred and seven ways to kill you with a stick of gum. You need one, by the way.” Arthur said calmly. Something approaching real warmth entered his eyes when Ariadne and Cobb came back bearing bags of take out.

Cobb glared at Eames as he shoved a Styrofoam carton into the man’s hands. “Let him work.”

Eames shrugged nonchalantly. “Just trying to get a feel for the pitch. I was just telling Arthur here that all our reputations precede us except his.”

“Arthur’s the best,” Cobb stated flatly. “Do you think you can get a good line of sight on his office from the roof of that building?” Cobb asked Ariadne with deliberate emphasis.

**

“What do you do in your time off?” Eames asked far too casually for Arthur’s comfort.

“You try to follow me home one more time and they’ll find you at the bottom of a river,” Arthur said without looking up.

“It’s your fault for being such an interesting puzzle, Arthur,” Eames made Arthur’s proper name sound dirtier than any of his endearments. “One moment you took a turn past the deli and the next nothing. Then you don’t turn up the next day. I was worried the competition found you.”

“As you can see, I’m alive and well,” Arthur said sourly.

Cobb entered the apartment. “Are you bothering Arthur again?”

“I can take care of myself,” Arthur reminded Cobb.

“I know.” Cobb smiled briefly before fixing his attention on Eames. “A moment?”

Eames strolled in after Cobb and maintained eye contact while Cobb shut the door with a little extra force.

“What is your problem with Arthur?” Cobb asked, hands on hips.

“He’s far too pretty,” Eames said, rolling his eyes. “Have you looked at him?”

Cobb frowned in confusion. “Is this some sort of threat to your masculinity or-“

“He’s supposed to be good with fighting, isn’t he? Guns and hand to hand and explosives and all that rubbish.” Eames cut in. “His nose is still straight, his ears haven’t been hit, there’s no scarring on his hands, his fingers are straight, are you getting what I’m saying? I’ve seen wiry guys who could fight. They aren’t pretty.”

“He’s that good,” Cobb said.

“At what? It isn’t martial arts.” Eames scoffed. “He isn’t balanced well enough for that. He puts all his weight on one foot and then all his weight on the next. So he’s what, a brawler? With that face?”

“It’s not my place to disclose that information.” Cobb said stonily.

“He could be military but I doubt it,” Eames eyed Cobb. “Military academy perhaps. He doesn’t roll enough when he walks.” Eames demonstrated a roll step. 

“I know his background,” Cobb said quietly. “You don’t need to. If you disagree you can walk away.”

Eames’s shoulders tightened.

“I mean it.” Cobb warned in the tone of voice he used on James and Philippa when they started wheedling. “I will find another forger if you can’t leave Arthur alone.”

“I will stop digging,” Eames promised.

**

“You want me to dig for data about Arthur?” Yusuf gave Eames an incredulous look. “Cobb’s going to kill me.”

“No, he won’t-” Eames smiled. 

“Don’t say that he won’t find out. He will. He’ll bloody look at me and know.” Yusuf said quickly.

“I’m telling you that he told me to ask you so we know what’s out there and won’t get a nasty surprise.” Eames answered. “He’s going to kill me. You’re an innocent bystander in this.”

Yusuf grunted doubtfully. “I already tried on the other job I pulled with them. I came up with nothing. He’s a ghost.”

“Try,” Eames urged.

“So long as it’s your funeral.” Yusuf rolled his eyes.

“That’s the spirit.”

**

“I know it will take time out of your busy schedule and you won’t be paid-“

“I’ll do it.” Ariadne grinned up at Eames.

“Are you sure? I have more sales pitch.” Eames blinked.

“I’m curious too.” Ariadne shrugged. “Where does he go on those days off? What does he do there? Is he a robot going back to the factory to recharge?”

“All vital questions,” Eames agreed sagely.

**

Ariadne waved her hand in front of Arthur’s face. “Hello?”

“Hello,” Arthur smiled faintly. “Something you need?”

She shook her head. “I got curious and was following you the other night. Who were the people in that van?” She had been learning from Dom off and on over the last two years and now Arthur gave her lessons when he wasn’t too busy with the paper trail. She was getting better and better at observing people while remaining unobserved. One of the tricks was not to let the target know how much you saw. At least not right off the bat.

“Just some people I’m staying with.” Arthur left all his paperwork in the apartment to minimize security risk. “I don’t tell them anything if that’s what you’re implying.”

“No.” Ariadne wrinkled her forehead. “What kind of treatment did they give you?”

“Hmm?” Arthur finally looked up at her like he was seeing her for the first time. 

“The Asian woman with the gun,” Ariadne prompted. “Would you like your treatment now? You said yes and got in the van.” She glanced at Arthur’s puzzled expression. “She was in her late thirties or early forties. Really grumpy looking. How can you not remember?”

“I don’t.” There was just enough anxiety in Arthur’s voice to make Ariadne believe him. He frowned down at his hands.

“What do you remember?” There was concern in the corners of Ariadne’s mouth.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Arthur said firmly.

“What did you do afterward?” Ariadne pressed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” A flatness crept into Arthur’s tone.

“Arthur, if you’re in some kind of trouble…” Ariadne began.

“I don’t like discussing my private life in public.” Arthur said firmly. A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. “Sudoku is too a hobby.”

“Is not,” Ariadne smiled but worry tightened the skin around her eyes.

**

Yusuf sat in a room lit only by the dim glow of his computer screen. The chair was one he’d brought with him. Originally, an expensive top of the line piece of office furniture it had now become comfortable. He closed his eyes before the blinding fluorescent lights came on. “Nope. Still haven’t found anything.”

“You’re playing solitaire,” Arthur noted.

“Spider solitaire.”

“Cobb wants us in the living room in five. Seems we’re going to have to accelerate our time table a little.” Arthur leaned against the doorway. “Does Eames have you watching me too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Yusuf stood. 

“So that’s a yes.” Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets and left the room.

Yusuf sighed and followed. He didn’t meet Eames’s eyes as he sat down.

Eames was wrestling the projector screen into the open position and didn’t notice. When he was done, he dragged a chair over to where Arthur was slouching. His expression didn’t waver at the other man’s stony expression.

“Next time follow me yourself,” Arthur whispered to Eames.

“I’ll do that, darling,” Eames whispered back.

**

“I didn’t think you’d be so obvious about it.” Arthur half turned towards the footsteps behind him.

“I didn’t think you’d go this far without acknowledging me,” Eames said cheerfully. “You don’t live around here.”

“Of course not.” Arthur shifted his messenger bag. “I was hoping you’d get bored.”

“How little you know me,” Eames smiled broadly.

“Is that what this is about? You want to get to know me better?” Arthur’s inflection was nine tenths derisive with a hint of confusion and a dash of irritation.

“Show me what you’ve got,” Eames took off his jacket.

Arthur looked down at his bag, coat, button up shirt, vest, and slacks. “Are you serious?”

“Never.” Eames spread his arms wide. “I do want to have proof of your shining reputation though.”

“Alright,” Arthur nodded and set his bag aside. “Fine.” He jerked his coat off and set it on top of the bag. “Perfect.” Off came the vest. “I always try to be my best.”

Fifteen minutes and a couple of bruised ribs later, Arthur had Eames in a strangle hold. Eames was panting, still trying to figure out how the other man could move that fast. “Well, that’s sorted then,” Eames almost managed to say before passing out.

**

“That’s the bill for the dry cleaning.” Arthur frowned at Eames as he gave him a receipt. 

“I shall cherish it forever.” Eames smiled. “You were very good. Possibly the best I’ve met. Who trained you?”

“I always try to be my best,” Arthur said.

“You said that last night.” Eames leaned against the table while Arthur set up his workstation.

“It’s true.” Arthur stretched languidly. “And flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Eames.”

“Is that your real accent?” Eames asked. “CIA? FBI? Military Intelligence? NSA? You’re humorless enough to be one of them.”

“What do I have to do to get you to stop asking questions?” Arthur stared.

“Answer them,” Eames said promptly.

“It seems like that would lead to new sets of questions.”

“True enough.” Eames paused, remembering the way the light of the projector reflected back onto Arthur’s face. 

“Eames! Let Arthur work,” Cobb ordered.

**

Arthur tried to remember what he’d been doing the previous night that had left him feeling so sore. He scrubbed a hand across his face and sank into his seat more loudly than usual.

“Looks like someone got laid last night,” Ariadne said, looking over the top of her papers.

“What?” Arthur asked and then shook his head. “Oh, yeah.”

“What’s she like?” Ariadne asked curiously.

“Cute,” Arthur said vaguely.

“Have you known her long?” Ariadne stopped as she saw the look of –distaste? –disgust? on Cobb’s face.   
“Not really.” Arthur looked intently at his computer screen. “Probably won’t see her again.”

“Oh.” Ariadne hesitated.

“It doesn’t interfere with work.” Arthur said, unsure if she was disappointed.

“Of course.” Ariadne bit her lip.

Arthur frowned as he wondered if maybe she was disappointed in him. He wondered if he was disappointed in himself.

**

The job went wrong. That wasn’t the same thing as failure, Arthur reflected as he shot a security guard in the throat. “Eames!”

“Right here, darling.” Eames said from a doorway behind Arthur. “We need to go down one more floor.”

“You keep them occupied, I’ll blow the door,” Arthur said before ducking back to the sealed emergency exit door.

“Not the only thing I’d like you to blow,” Eames smirked as his gunfire took up where Arthur’s left off.

Arthur couldn’t quite hear what Eames had said but he understood the gist of it. He spared the forger a glare even though he knew Eames couldn’t see him. Then he set to work.

On the next flight down they encountered more armed security personnel and Eames took a sharp bit of concrete to the face. Arthur smoothly covered Eames while he withdrew to tend his face. The exhilaration rose in Arthur’s chest even as his face remained tightly locked into a frown. Endorphins pounded through his system, lightening his step and dilating his pupils.

Eames watched Arthur with frank admiration once he was sure he hadn’t lost an eye. When Arthur turned his way, Eames found himself smiling. He rejoined the fight until Cobb caught up. The two of them defended Cobb in tandem while he hooked Yusuf into the network and they retrieved the data they needed. 

Cobb and the two of them left by separate routes. Cobb frowned when Arthur went with Eames but didn’t have time to argue.

Between their retreat and the safe house Arthur pulled Eames off of the roundabout course they were taking. He looked the other man in the eyes and kissed him hard. Suddenly, he realized that he couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before. A series of random encounters hadn’t prepared him in any way for this onslaught of emotion. 

Eames’s eyes widened in surprise. He kissed Arthur back, pushing him against car door. “Not here,” he whispered.

“Why not?” Arthur pressed against Eames.

“My place. Less exposed,” Eames grunted. “Two blocks that way.” In case he’d needed to bail.

Arthur drove hurriedly to Eames’s place. They piled into it with no more noise than the average drunken arrival on creaky stairs. Arthur kissed Eames again.

“Not to pry into that private life of yours but have you ever done it with a man before?” Eames asked as he undid his fly.

Arthur shrugged as he undid his own. “Not that I remember.”

“Bedroom,” Eames pulled Arthur along.

Arthur allowed himself to be pushed down on the bed and his pants pulled down around his knees. Anticipation hardened his member and he moaned softly.

“Patience, pet,” Eames stroked the back of Arthur’s neck. He pulled down his own trousers and began moving with a steady rhythm between Arthur’s thighs. He reached down to stroke Arthur’s member as he did so, enjoying every gasp and shudder he could wring from the usually stoic man.

Arthur arched up into Eames’s touch, bucking his hips a little to help him along. When Eames came they switched places, pausing long enough for another kiss.

After they were both sated Arthur sighed and nuzzled Eames. “We should get back.”

“Do you want to work together again?” Eames asked Arthur huskily.

“Absolutely,” Arthur smiled, showing a pair of dimples Eames had never seen before.

**

Cobb glared at both of them even though Arthur had tucked everything away and was as orderly as ever. “What happened?”

“We thought we had a tail. Turned out to be nothing.” Eames said innocently.

Cobb glared suspiciously at them both and sighed. “We need to split up and lay low for a while.”

Arthur was walking back towards where he remembered his apartment being when a van rolled up. “It’s time for your treatment,” an Asian woman in her late thirties told Arthur.

**

“Where’s Arthur?” Eames demanded without preamble, using all his self-control not to shout into the cell phone.

“He’s safe,” Cobb answered blearily. “Do you know what time it is here?”

“He promised he’d meet me here. Where is he?” Eames asked, anxiety roughening his voice.

“Eames did you and Arthur-“

“Yes.” Eames said shortly. “Ok? Yes, we did. You don’t own him.” There was a long pause. “Cobb?”

“Arthur doesn’t exist anymore.” Cobb hung up.

**

“Yusuf, this had better be really good,” Eames growled into his phone.

“It is. I’m emailing you something now.” Yusuf sounded practically gleeful.

“Then why not just email it to me?” Eames opened up his browser.

“You’ll know when you see it.”

Eames snorted and pulled up his email and opened the attachment. “This had better not be another vi-“ He stared at a picture of Arthur. Only it couldn’t be Arthur. Arthur didn’t wear glasses. Arthur would never a shirt as garish as that. Arthur would never wear a grin that dopey. Especially not if he were looking at a sixty year old woman in a dress that shade of pink. 

“I am vindicated,” Yusuf exulted.

“How’s that?” Eames asked, blinking again.

“I am still the best there is. I used the face finder algorithm and kept it going. I figured he had to show up in a public place sometime or another.” Eames could feel Yusuf’s triumphant grin through the cell tower transmission. “Also, I am not a crackpot. It isn’t an urban legend.”

“What isn’t?” Eames asked.

“They. The people who can be other people at the flick of a switch. The people whose names I don’t want to say on the airwaves.” Yusuf prodded.

“They, the people everyone in the States is going nuts about?” 

“Yes. Them.”

“How do I get in touch with them?” Eames stared at the screen.

“You aren’t thinking about going in there are you?” Yusuf sounded more annoyed than horrified.

“Not as a rescue mission. Just to see if he’s there.” Eames said uneasily.

“You’ll owe me twenty Euros,” Yusuf said.

Eames smiled.

**

Eames was dressed in a dark suit. His hair was slicked back in an unflattering, conservative style. As many small details as Eames could manage said “rich arsehole.” Even so, he felt a healthy respect for the power of the corporation that owned the building.

He looked over the Actives as they did their exercises and felt ice in the vicinity of where his heart was supposed to be. On his yoga mat, sat a slight dark haired man with small brown eyes. There was a relaxed innocence to him that Arthur had never possessed, something almost childlike.

The meeting went by in a jittery blur where Eames ultimately told them he’d rethought the assignment and no, he wasn’t going to tell anyone. On the way back out, he accidentally on purpose ran into the not-Arthur. “That’s a wonderful painting.” 

The other man smiled up at him trustingly. “I always try to be my best.”

The caretaker glowered at him and Eames nodded and moved along.

**

“Keep the program running,” Eames told Yusuf over the phone. Sooner or later, the Doll’s contract would end. Eames didn’t consider his motives or what he’d do from there.

**

Eames wasn’t faithful to Arthur. Not strictly speaking. He dallied and had a girlfriend for a couple months. None of them were as interesting as the puzzle Arthur had presented.

One day, he plunked himself down across the table from a man in cheap café. The man was roughly Eames’s height and had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. He had stubble and looked like he’d slept in his clothes. There was a wariness and an anger in his eyes unlike Arthur’s careful tension or the Doll’s childlike openness or the goofy grin in the picture Yusuf had sent.

“Eames,” Eames held out his hand.

“I have one of those faces everyone recognizes,” the man said, glaring.

“I haven’t even told you what I have to offer,” Eames said smoothly.

“I thought you people weren’t supposed to contact me. Some sort of provision of my contract.” He took a gulp of soda.

“If I ever signed any contract, that might be an issue. As it stands, I didn’t know you were under contract when I encountered you.” Eames said easily, leaning back. 

“So what are you offering? I’m not a prostitute.” 

“You weren’t when I met you, either. I’m a forger.” Eames told him. “I fake a variety of forms of identification for fun and profit.”

The man paused. “Why come here?”

“You’re interesting. I’m bored.” Eames tapped the table with his thumbs. “I knew you wouldn’t remember but better safe than sorry.”

“Tommy Burgess,” Tommy offered his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Eames smiled.

**

The world ended and nations fell into chaos. In a deserted stretch of India, four people lived. One was a short brunette, one was a heavyset man of medium height, one was a stocky blond and one was a wiry brown haired man.


End file.
